


The Wishing Hunt

by fireolin



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Adventure, Aged-up KilluGon, Bodyguard, Exploring a New Land, Fae!Killua, Fake Relationship, Former assassin, Killua flirting badly, Love-and-Affection-Starved Killua, M/M, Medieval (-ish), Mutual Pining, Only One Bed, Picnic on Mountaintop after Perilously Climbing a Mountain, Prince!Gon, Romance, Secret Identies, Stranded Together, Touch-starved Killua, Witches, and more to come - Freeform, caught in a rainstorm, fairy tale AU, magical au, star-gazing, treasure hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireolin/pseuds/fireolin
Summary: Before he’s roped in to rule Whale Island, Prince Gon Freecss seeks a single personal wish that can only be found in the treacherous fae region of Aiai. If he is to return safely, he needs a bodyguard. Killua Zoldyck has no desire for such a job. He is an ex-fae assassin who hides his dark past. All he wants is a good night’s sleep, then to travel onwards to see his sisters. However fate has other ideas.This is an experimental fic where I'm writing to a structure (to make sure a story happens) and including your choices along the way. At the end of each chapter, there’ll be a link to a form where you can vote. The winning choices will help shape the story!
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 62
Kudos: 70





	1. Seeking a Bed at the Wild Fae Inn

## 𝕏𝕏

On returning to Sweetwater after eight months traversing hostile mountains and swamps as a Ghost Arrow Company guard, Killua Zoldyck’s greatest fantasy (which he would admit to no one) concerned cuddling a soft pillow in the most comfortable bed money could buy at The Wild Fae inn.

It did not bode well for his fantasy that it had poured with rain for two days prior to the Company’s arrival. Nor that The Wild Fae was the only inn, and Sweetwater the last human outpost on the border of the fae realm Aiai. Depending on the direction of your journey, the inn was either your first or last haven from the region’s tricks. In the storm, those who had meant to leave yesterday had stayed, and those who’d planned to arrive tomorrow had battled to get here sooner. The low-raftered dining room was steamy, smokey, and noisy with music and shouting. The stench of unwashed bodies and mud overpowered that of the food. 

Still, wedged around a table with his five fellow guards, with his back to a dry stone wall, and having consumed an enormous bowl of salmon stew, he could not complain. The previous occupants had fled at the sight of their weapons and Yuzir’s ogre-shaped bulk. Tomorrow he would leave soon as the rain stopped to finally visit his sisters. An entire moon at leisure before the Company reunited to transport their next precious cargo.

His fellow guards were all dreaming of something too, Killua could tell from their expressions.

“A whole moon,” Inreer said, leaning back, hands behind their head. Each guard was a formidable fighter, with additional expertise. The tall, black-skinned androgyne was the company healer. “I’m going to soak for a week in a hot tub.”

“Can’t think further than a sweet feather bed,” Summer said. Sitting opposite Killua, she slung her arm around her husband, Winter. Their ornate hairstyles marked them as members of the Xau clan. Outside the clan, they were known only by their code names, a tradition Killua suspected evolved out of superstitions (mostly baseless) about staying safe from fae.

Winter leaned into her temple and murmured, “Can’t think further than time alone with you.” 

Ugh. Killua schooled his expression. Eight months of toil, and somehow those two were still on their honeymoon. However, they had gained his respect with their life-saving knowledge of hostile flora and fauna. When Summer kissed Winter on the lips, he looked away and said, “Anyone thinking we’ll get feather beds here tonight is deluded. Even the stables are full to the rafters. We’ll be lucky to share the floor in the commoners’ room.” 

“ _You’ll_ be lucky,” Yuzir growled, and sniggered. “ _I’m_ not sharing with you again.”

Killua’s face heated. He aimed a murderous glare at Yuzir. “You took up space for two.”

Next to him, Rotha shoved her hands into the centre of the table, forcing Yuzir’s meaty fist to pause its descent. “Have faith. The innkeeper owes ‘Sander a favour.”

“Alissander promised if he can wangle it we’ll have two rooms,” Summer said. “One for Winter and me, one for the rest of you.” 

Killua scowled. “Just because this is The Wild Fae doesn’t mean the innkeepers are. I wouldn’t put faith in their favours.”

Rotha’s lips twitched as she eyed him. “Being fae isn’t the issue. It’s bad luck to break your word to a Promise Keeper.”

“Hmmph.” He supposed she had a point, being their cultural specialist and all, but Summer and Winter were sucking each other’s faces again, and he didn’t feel like replying.

Rotha clapped him on the back. “Hey, mate. We’re flush with coin. Let’s find some entertainment till ‘Sander gets back. Come on.”

“Count me out. I’m not gambling.”

“But you always win.” She dragged him up by the sleeve of his tunic. 

“That only leaves fighting,” Yuzir said hopefully, rising to join them.

“No one’s fighting,” said Inreer, following.

“Says you.” Yuzir cracked his knuckles. 

A roar rose from the far corner of the room, followed by laughter and the chink of coin. It wasn’t the first roar they’d heard from there tonight. The crowd had thickened since then, bent on watching something or someone. Admittedly, Killua was curious. He didn’t resist when Rotha led them in that direction through the crowd. An act of kindness, allowing Summer and Winter time alone.

“ _I’m_ gambling,” Rotha said. “Lend me your luck.”

He snorted, as if him lending her luck was impossible. Sometimes, like now, he wondered if she’d figured out he was fae. He had his glamours firmly in place, strong enough to fool all but the most powerful of his kind. So far on his journey he hadn’t met another fae as strong as himself, though that could change around here. However Rotha was observant for a human, and they’d spent many moons together. She might have worked it out from his behaviour. 

“Just for tonight,” she urged him. “Go on.”

“I only gamble on games of skill that I can read. I’m not lucky.”

She shot him a knowing look. “Don’t you think we’ve worked together long enough for you to trust me?”

“I trust you.” In so far as trust went between the guards. None of them pried into each other’s pasts. If they ever found out about his, they would no longer tolerate him to be near them, especially Rotha who, despite being an efficient dispatcher of criminal heads, had somehow maintained her optimistic love of other people. However, they had all at some point saved each other’s lives. What more trust did they need?

Her gaze was already wandering, only to linger on a petite young woman seated on a high table overlooking the source of the crowd’s commotion. She wore two curly pigtails and a bright red dress. She peered intently through a gap that seemed left especially for her.

“She’s pretty,” Rotha said.

“I wouldn’t rush in,” Killua replied. “I don’t think she’s what she seems.”

“Who here is?” Rotha narrowed her eyes. “What is she then? Can you tell?”

“Not yet.” 

Yuzir snarled gently, causing the men in front of them to turn around, hands on their weapons. The men gave way, and in no time the four Ghost Arrows made it to the front row. Most of the commotion involved laughter and money changing hands over an arm-wrestling competition. A bunch of lanterns hung from the rafters, illuminating the two competitors at the table below.

“A game of skill?” Rotha suggested.

“Wait and see.” In most places, it would be. Close to the border of Aiai, you couldn’t rely on appearances. It was anyone’s guess which competitor would be more able. At first, Killua felt mildly disappointed to see they were ordinary humans: a well-built man in his mid-to-late-twenties versus a heavier-set older man, a seasoned mercenary-type still wearing boiled leather. But as they wrestled, a smile pushed at Killua’s lips. The younger man wore the sleeves of his eggshell-coloured tunic pushed up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms of which most men would be proud, but they were half the size of his opponent’s. His tendons corded with exertion as he crushed the bigger man’s hand down onto the wooden table. 

_Nice._

The loser cursed. The onlookers grumbled or crowed, depending on how they’d placed their bets. The younger man grinned broadly and sat back. He deserved credit, Killua thought, for having more guile than his appearance suggested. A good way to scam some extra coin if you didn’t mind drawing attention to yourself. 

He examined the winner with more interest. He had light brown skin, dark eyes, and wild-looking, spiky black hair that swept back from his brow. They were all authentic—no shimmer of fae deceit. His clothes were as worn as Killua’s own, but of good quality linen and leather, suggesting that he might be the grown son of some well-to-do merchant. Just visible at his hip, the silver hilt of a dagger gleamed. A small blue jewel glittered on a velvet pillow beside him: his stake.

“Quality,” Killua murmured.

“The jewel or the man?”

“The jewel, you goose.” His face heated unacceptably at the amusement in Rotha’s blue eyes, so he jabbed her hard in the ribs—and winced. He’d forgotten her armoured corset. “They can’t fake that colour with paste.”

The young woman with the pigtails bounced forward and challenged the crowd with her hands on her hips. “Who’s next?” Her eyes paused on Killua and his companions. “Two silvers for a chance to win the sapphire.”

Yuzir stepped forward.

The woman rolled her eyes. “My client is human. No challengers of ogre or giant blood allowed.”

Yuzir growled, but glanced down at the small hand she laid on his stomach and retreated. 

“How do we know the jewel is real?” Rotha asked her.

“Because I vouch for it.”

“And who are you to do that?”

She tossed her pigtails back. “Biscuit Krueger. Ask around if you don’t know my reputation.”

While they’d been talking, another woman, plainly dressed in a black tunic and leggings, had taken the chair opposite the man and pushed her two silver coins across the table. She had dark hair and thick spectacles, a non-magical vision-improving device you could buy in some cities. She looked ordinary, but if she was, she wouldn’t have taken that seat. Her two companions watched indulgently from the side, huge men from some sort of company like the Ghost Arrows, Killua expected. Except maybe their work was less honest. They radiated a faint magical influence that made his skin prickle. 

“I _have_ heard of Biscuit Krueger,” Rotha said near Killua’s ear. “She’s a travelling witch.”

“And?”

Rotha smiled. “She’s talented.”

“There’s something else about her.” 

Rotha was already leaving, heading to the betting table nearby. He wished her luck, but wouldn’t lend her any. It was a hard call to bet which competitor would be stronger, but the witch would have called the woman out if she was going to cheat, Killua was certain. 

His smile grew as he watched the match. As he expected, this time it was harder. Both competitors strained. Sweat beaded the man’s hairline by the time he won; he must have used his full strength. His grin was one of slight relief. He leaned forward and asked the woman something.

She shook her head and left with a glance of regret.

“Damn, I lost ten silver,” Rotha muttered, back beside Killua. “Why don’t you wrestle him next?”

“Wouldn’t be fair.”

“I’ll pay for your entry.”

“No.”

“But it’s a game of skill.”

“Huh. He’s nothing special.” 

Just another misguided fool looking for romantic adventure in Aiai. The man’s eyes sparkled with a challenge as they lit on Killua’s just long enough to set his heart racing. He dropped his gaze a fraction, trying not to be too obviously aware. The man’s mouth was attractively shaped and generous. He had a sudden flash of it covering his own, kissing him like Summer had Winter. The room felt suddenly warmer. 

“But you like him. You haven’t stopped staring.”

He ignored her. 

“You’ll get to hold his hand.”

“Fuck off.”

Rotha chuckled. “Go on. I want my silver back, that’s all.”

“He’s about to get himself trapped in Aiai, and you want me to add to his misfortune.” 

“You owe me a favour, remember? I’m calling it in. After all, we won’t see each other for a month. I might have got myself killed by then.”

“You? Unlikely.” He eyed her sideways. Was this another hint that she knew? But her face remained composed. “Are you sure? You could ask for something far more difficult.”

“I insist.” 

“Fine.” 

He dug two silvers from the purse at his waist, strode forward and placed them on the table. 

## 𝕏𝕏

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This vote is closed. Read Chapter Two for the result!


	2. A Stormy Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A white-haired stranger challenges Gon to an arm-wrestling match. As his circumstances deteriorate, Killua is faced with a difficult choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an experimental fic where I'm writing to a structure and including your choices along the way. The last vote was very close, down to a single vote to determine the winner of the match, who is revealed below. At the end of this chapter, there’s a link to the next voting form, which will shape events as their journey continues!

𝕏𝕏

Gon’s time was running out. The roar of the storm outside had grown louder as the noise inside the tavern diminished. The staff were extinguishing lanterns as patrons abandoned their empty platters and mugs to ready themselves for bed. He watched the woman in the spectacles drift away with her two threatening-looking companions. They’d shown no interest in competing against him. Too bad she’d turned his offer down. Ideally, his bodyguard should be stronger than him, so she’d be a compromise, but she was practically his equal. He hadn’t even caught her name.

It had been a second disappointing night, despite Bisky’s promise the omens were good. Through a gap in the crowd around his table, he glimpsed the innkeeper heading for the lobby, probably to instruct the doorman to stay closed. That meant the newest group would be his last chance. He tried to relax back into his chair and let the strength return to his right arm as he examined them.

Judging by their weapons and the state of their clothes, they were four seasoned fighters. Though Bisky had disqualified the gigantic, ogre-blooded man, any of the others might do if they were willing. The tall black-skinned fighter keeping the ogre in check looked calm and capable. The muscled and armoured woman with the blonde plait had a cheerful demeanour that could be good on a long quest. She’d shown an interest in the sapphire by Gon’s wrist, unlike the white-haired man beside her. He was unusually pale, with heavily kohl-rimmed eyes, perhaps to shield them from glare. Gon had felt their regard from the moment the man had arrived. He wore a high-collared navy tunic—no obvious armour, no obvious weapons other than a knife at his belt. He bore an amused smile—a look of condescension or forbearance. Either arrogance or justified confidence. 

Which one? Arrogance might make him annoying on the road, but if it meant he was strong, Gon didn’t care. Deliberately, he met the man’s eyes. _Come on_ , he willed him. _Fight me_.

In the tavern’s dim light, the man’s gaze was unreadable. His cynical mouth twitched, granting Gon a tingle of anticipation. But then the man’s gaze dropped a notch. It pulled away completely as he resumed talking with the blonde.

Gon sighed. Frustrating. As he examined the rest of the crowd, he had to wonder if Bisky had over-stewed her tea leaves—or whatever she used to read omens.

The click of coins on wood drew his attention back. 

The white-haired man had moved as unobtrusively as a shadow to place two silvers before him. “Sorry to spoil your fun.” He took the opposite seat. “I’m only doing this for Rotha.”

The blonde woman? Gon slid the coins from the table into his pouch. “Why apologise?”

“Because this will feel like theft.”

“You think it’ll be that easy to beat me?”

The man laughed softly and glanced back at his companions. “Well, you’re not as strong as Yuzir.”

“Your ogre-blooded friend?”

“Mm, yes. I can withstand him for a short time, whereas you wouldn’t last the blink of an eye.”

“Mhm. Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“Just stating facts.”

Gon grinned. “I’d rather you showed me.”

Bisky arrived in a flounce of red skirts and nodded her approval of the match. “These are the rules. Elbows stay on the table. Bend your wrist to gain advantage, and you lose. Break your opponent’s bones, you lose; _and_ you pay my fee to reset them.”

“Fine.” The stranger set his elbow on the table and raised his hand, making no effort whatsoever to position himself advantageously. “Let’s get this over.”

Gon centred his arm on his front before he gripped the man’s hand. The stranger was taller than him; perhaps sinewy under his tunic; but Gon had broader shoulders and his hands were strengthened from years of climbing trees and cliffs back home. The stranger’s hands betrayed no such history. His fingers were long and elegant with black-lacquered nails. He wore several silver rings with complex designs, but Bisky would have noticed if they contained any relevant magical enhancements. The man’s grip was firm and cool.

The odds looked in Gon’s favour, yet his stomach fluttered as Bisky counted down.

The stranger’s grip tightened as Gon’s did, matching his starting strength. If the man was all talk and actually weaker, he might not try to test Gon straight away, but to wear him down first. However, the pale angles of his face showed no initial strain. The slight lift at the corners of his mouth spoke of effortless control. 

It felt like wrestling a stone statue. Not a tremor in the man’s arm. 

If he was stronger, then Gon shouldn’t weaken himself trying to outlast him. With a sharp burst of force, he pulled the man’s hand in and down.

It moved an inch. That amused smile returned. “Nice try,” the man said. His voice was low and smooth.

Their combined grip heated, growing damp with sweat. Probably only Gon’s. He could feel it gathering on his brow. None was visible through the stranger’s loose bangs. His hair wasn’t quite white, but shades of mushroom. Hand to hand, he felt dangerous. Gon couldn’t place why, but he speculated that like a mushroom, the man would thrive in darkness. 

Their struggle drew shouts from the crowd. The blonde woman cried out, “Go, Killua!”

“Is that your name?” Gon asked.

A curt nod. Gon realised he’d lost his advantage. Killua had forced his hand back upright. He’d applied his full strength, and it hadn’t been enough.

“Why are you smiling?” Killua asked.

“I like a challenge.” His voice shook with the effort to maintain his hand’s neutral position.

“Is that why you’re here? Not enough challenges wherever you’re from? I can understand that. But there’s no point throwing your life away in Aiai just because you’re bored.”

“You think I’m going into Aiai?”

“Why else would you be passing through Sweetwater? You’re not a professional mercenary or guard, and you’re not acting like you’re here for trade. You appear to be travelling alone. So you must be going into Aiai, because you surely wouldn’t have made it out.”

Despite their struggle and his long speech, Killua wasn’t struggling for breath. He couldn’t be faking his strength. “You have experience in Aiai?” Gon asked.

“Elsewhere in fae.” Killua’s expression darkened. “But you can trust me on this.” 

The pressure of Killua’s grip increased to the point of pain, but Gon resisted. Just. The crowd yelled, sensing his growing weakness. Measured by strength alone, this match was already over. He’d achieved the first part of his plan; found someone who could best him. But the urge to replace that amused smile with respect burned as strongly as the fiery pain in his arm. If he couldn’t win by strength, he could endure. If Killua was a statue, Gon had to find and attack any crack that would weaken him.

“Why do you care to advise me?” he asked. Because that was strange. None of his other challengers had bothered.

Killua shrugged without decreasing the crippling pressure of his grip. “Because…” He frowned. “People…” He licked his lips. “We are all wildflowers. We grow fast and bloom briefly. We are easily plucked or trampled. Since we’re plentiful, we’re not valued. Yet if you look closely, each one of us is exquisite.”

Gon blinked. That was the last kind of answer he’d expected from anyone in a place like this. “Exquisite.” His hand trembled. “All of us?”

“Well. Those of us who haven’t been poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Gon was sure he could think of a few poisonings in his own life.

“Yes. From the roots, affecting the whole plant. But most ordinary people are exquisite, if you pay attention.”

Gon frowned.

“For instance,” Killua said, “you have strength and guile—and you’re fine to look upon. It would be a waste to die before your time.”

“Fine to look upon, huh?” He’d assumed Killua’s earlier regard had been that of a fighter assessing his ability. Not his looks.

A faint pink dusted Killua’s pale skin. But his eyes were bold as they held Gon’s. “Like a…a fine horse.” 

_A horse?_ Gon tried not to splutter as he strained against Killua’s grip. Was that a compliment or an insult? 

Killua’s gaze wavered, and his flush deepened.

His intention didn’t matter. He’d revealed a crack. Gon gave his best sultry stare—the best he could while having his fingers mangled. “You mean, you want to ride me?” 

A widening of those eyes; a quiver in Killua’s hand. Gon pulled in and down hard. The crowd roared as spikes of agony juddered through his shoulder. 

He moved Killua’s hand a whole three inches down toward the tabletop.

Killua hissed, and for the first time, looked annoyed. When he caught Gon’s gaze, his blue eyes seemed darker. The noise of the crowd blurred and Gon felt a moment of dizziness. He wasn’t sure if it was something about the shadows in those eyes, something he couldn’t quite see, or whether it was just that he’d reached the end of his strength. 

“This is over,” Killua said. “You might as well give in.”

Gon panted for breath. “Not till you have me pinned.” Until then, fate might intervene. Killua’s blush really undermined his dangerous aura. Gon summoned all his will, and pushed back up, snarling with effort.

“I agreed not to break your arm,” Killua said through gritted teeth. “Don’t do it for me.”

Gon swore. It wasn’t worth it; he didn’t want to hamper his quest. Still, he kept resisting, to the shouts of the crowd, until Killua pressed the back of his hand to the worn wood of the table. 

“You win,” Gon panted. “Congratulations.” 

The blonde woman nearby let out a victorious whoop. Gon relaxed his grip, but Killua held him there as if to emphasise his win. 

“I have a proposal,” Gon said. 

Killua narrowed his eyes. “Do you?”

Gon laughed wryly. “I need a bodyguard for my journey into Aiai. There’s no point unless they’re stronger than me. I’m offering jewels—same quality as this sapphire. Will you hear me out?”

“Huh. So you’re not just scamming coin.”

“No. Although coins are easier to spend than jewels.”

Killua looked down at the table. Gon’s stomach twisted as he waited. From the rise and fall of Killua’s shoulders, he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

“I’m sorry,” Killua said. “I have plans.”

“If it’s another job, tell me how much. I’ll pay out your contract.”

“Money isn’t the issue. There’s someone I need to see.”

“If you need a few days—”

“I’ll be gone for a moon. Longer if I’m able. But you’re right to look for someone. If you’re hellbent on ignoring my advice and going in there, you shouldn’t go alone. Find an expert in fae lore. That will matter more than strength.”

The innkeeper shouted a warning that the dining room was closing. Killua let go of his hand and rose. Gon stood, too. What might tempt Killua? Should he disclose who he was and offer royal favour? That would mean little with his kingdom so far from here. “Killua, is there anything else I can offer? What do you want?” 

“I want for nothing. But I wish you luck.” Killua nodded, then left without a backward glance.

The sapphire still sat on the table. “Wait!” Gon grabbed it up, but the crowd closed behind Killua.

Bisky arrived at his side. “He said no?”

“He wouldn’t even discuss it. Apparently, there’s nothing he wants.”

“My omens are good.” She tapped her chin. “If he really means to refuse, there must be someone better.”

“No, I can tell. He’s the best. Most people I’ve wrestled are strong, but they’re like dull steel next to him. He’s sharp and bright…like a sword with a jewelled hilt. There’s more to him than strength. He’s—”

“Intriguing and handsome?”

Gon sighed. “Intelligent. And experienced in at least one other fae realm. He tried to persuade me not to go in. I suspect… he’s kind. He didn’t take the sapphire. I think he left it so I could keep on trying to find someone—once my arm recovers.” He massaged his shoulder. “That won’t be tonight.” 

Bisky smirked. “Gon Freecss. I thought you were only looking for muscle.”

“I am.” Bitterness crept into his voice. “Experienced muscle. But his extra qualities could make him better company on the road.” He slipped the sapphire back into its bag. “I thought I could compromise. Now, I don’t want to.”

𝕏

“Uh oh,” Rotha said, as she and Killua returned to their companions. “This doesn’t look good.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Killua braced himself for bad news. By their table, Yuzir and Inreer stood towering over Alissander as he spoke with them. He appeared less cheerful than he had when he’d left to speak with the innkeeper. Summer slouched on her folded arms across the table by a pile of empty bowls and mugs. Her face was dark with disappointment. Winter had his arm around her shoulders. Killua guessed they’d missed out on their private room. Yuzir and Inreer, however, remained relatively cheerful, so there was hope they'd all found beds.

As Yuzir and Inreer seated themselves, Alissander turned to Killua and Rotha. He only reached up to Killua’s chest, yet radiated authority. Years of travel in all seasons had etched themselves into the brown skin of his face. He kept his moustache and beard immaculately groomed no matter where in the wilderness they went. He was wiry from constant activity, never shirking a share of their labour despite being their boss and reaching middle-age. 

Crucially, he was the one person in the Ghost Arrow Company who knew Killua was fae. Trusting him with that secret had been necessary for Killua to secure his position. As a Promise Keeper, however, Alissander would die before he revealed it to anyone. 

“Good news and bad,” Alissander said, raising his voice above the clamour of platters being cleared. “The private rooms are all taken. However, Rollo and Marion got my message in time. They’ve allotted us the last two beds in the common room.”

The common room was directly above. Killua could hear the thuds in the rafters as people moved. He stilled his expression as he remembered the beds here only fit three people. Yuzir was eyeing him from the table with a satisfied smirk.

Rotha frowned. “There’s seven of us. Three to one bed, four to the other?”

“Yuzir takes two spaces,” Killua said. “The fairest solution is for him to miss out. That way more of us get a bed.”

“No,” Alissander said. “I’m sleeping in the storeroom, because Rollo and Marion trust me. But that’s as far as they’re willing to stretch. They don’t let guests sleep in the dining room or kitchen, or there’d be no end of theft and breakages. I’m sorry, Killua, but I’m asking you to sleep outside.” 

“Me?” The gleaming web of his fantasy snapped into floating, lost strands. No dry mattress. No soft pillow to hug. No warm bodies next to his. Not even Yuzir’s. He could feel Yuzir smirking, and refused to look at him. “Shouldn’t we at least draw straws? Or something?” 

Yet even as he spoke, he knew Alissander would never agree to a game of luck with a fae. 

Alissander said, “This close to Aiai, you’re the only one who’ll be safe alone outside. I’m sorry.”

It was true, dammit. He was the only safe choice. Even Yuzir could be fooled by a fae glamour. And if the Company hadn’t made it to the inn, as their expert in all things fae, Killua would have stayed awake all night if necessary to ensure their safety.

He could count his luck that at least he wouldn’t be doing that. “Fine.” Rather than add to Yuzir’s pleasure, he swallowed his disappointment. “Well, in that case, I’ll say my goodbyes now.” He plucked his satchel and rolled cloak from the pile Winter and Summer had guarded. “Rather than sleep in the mud, I’ll start my journey early. I’ll get there sooner. So that’s good.”

“That plan’s a crock,” Rotha said. “Put those back. You’ll get nowhere faster in this weather. Besides, you need sleep as badly as the rest of us.” She tilted her head and toyed with her long blonde plait. “Why not use your natural charm? See if anyone in a private room has space to share.”

“Rotha. You know I don’t make those kinds of arrangements.” He pulled his satchel on.

She sighed and dropped the act. “Mate, I’m not suggesting you sell your body. Just knock on their doors and ask if someone will have a heart, considering the weather. You could offer them coin. Maybe a small favour.” 

Natural charm. Favours. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was suggesting he use magic. If he did that around here, they’d think him fae for sure. He’d be foolish to assume she wasn’t probing. “No. I’m uncomfortable asking strangers.”

“That man you just bested has riches enough to afford a private room. You liked him well enough.”

Now he was getting annoyed. “I’d rather sleep in the mud!” 

Yuzir sniggered. “A stranger is good, Killua. Doesn’t matter he won’t share with you again.”

He moved with the speed of his anger, the tip of his blade under Yuzir’s chin before the man could react. “Shut up. Unless you want to wake up without your tongue.” 

Naked shock flashed in Yuzir’s eyes. Killua smiled.

Inreer went to grab his wrist, but of course, he stepped back first and re-sheathed his knife, which he only bothered with for the sake of disguise.

Inreer said, “Enough, Yuzir. You have a bed.” 

Killua bundled his cloak under his other arm. “I really don’t care. It’ll be more peaceful outside.”

“Please don’t leave early,” Rotha said. “There’ll be flooding, even mudslides. You can’t fight those.”

“Actually,” Alissander said. “I need you to return in the morning, Killua. There’s something we need to discuss in private.”

𝕏

Alissander was the one person Killua couldn’t refuse, not if he wanted to remain a Ghost Arrow. And he did for now, because guarding their particular wares was honest, highly paid work that provided the perfect cover. It provided built-in companions who wouldn’t ask too many questions. It kept him on the move through terrain where members of his disowned family were unlikely to bother trying to find him. Plus, it gave him some chance to rebalance the two decades’ worth of assassinations he’d carried out for them. Every time he helped save his colleagues' lives—even Yuzir’s—he could tell himself he was making up for the many more he’d taken.

That was a lie, of course. Saving another life could not assuage the dead. But he would not dwell upon that.

Alissander also offered him one moon of leave for every thirteen he worked. The gift of certainty that he would see Alluka and Nanika every year: the two people who meant more to him than anyone in the world. This was the first such leave he’d earned, and for weeks he’d dreamt of their precious faces. 

It wasn’t worth being insubordinate for the sake of a single night’s travel.

As he put on his cloak, rain hammered outside the small lobby. Wind whistled through the cracks around the door, swaying the lanterns in the rafters. Their light flickered. Killua pulled his hood over his brow and nodded to the guard. “Okay.”

The man braced himself and opened the door a crack, leaning against it for control as it widened. The wind howled and rain gusted in, blasting Killua’s face.

“Killua—wait!”

He drew back and added his strength to that of the guard to shove the door closed. As he turned to answer, water dripped from his nose and chin. “What?” 

He’d thought it must be Inreer coming to tell him to apologise to Yuzir, but the din of the wind had deceived him. It was the man he’d beaten at arm-wrestling. 

“You forgot this.” The man wore a determined expression as he held up a small black velvet bag. 

“The sapphire? I don’t need it.”

“Then give it to someone who does. Or to someone you care about.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you want it?”

“It served its purpose.” A crooked smile. “You won it fair and square.” 

He could give it to Alluka—it would match her eyes. Over the next moon, he could have it made into a pendant or a ring. “You’ve given up trying to find a bodyguard?”

“I found the one I wanted.” The man eyeballed him from head to toe. “But he refused.”

“Second best not good enough for you?”

“Ha. Don’t rub it in.”

Killua held out his palm, and the man dropped the bag into it. Killua stowed it beneath his cloak. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Gon Freecss. And you are Killua…?”

“Zoldyck.” It was mildly disturbing that Gon had given up searching after wrestling him. Had he determined to enter Aiai alone? That was the most dangerous scenario for a human—but Killua bit down the urge to ask. After all, it was none of his business. He held out his hand. “Well, Freecss, I’ll remember that you’re decent if we ever run into each other again.” 

Depending on the circumstances, that might save Gon’s life.

Gon shook his hand. “By the way, Killua, I have a private room.”

“I…I beg your pardon?” Killua blinked. He didn’t know how to take that. Gon had caught him heading into the storm. Was this an act of mercy, or a suggestion for a liaison? Or both?

The comments they’d exchanged while arm-wrestling returned to him. In a reckless moment he’d confessed he found Gon good-looking. But then he’d accidentally insulted him. It was hard to read humans sometimes, but after that, he’d assumed the man was just toying with him. Although that was embarrassing too. He’d felt exposed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not propositioning you. I have space and I don’t mind sharing, not in this weather. But if you’d rather sleep in the mud than with me, that’s fine.”

His face heated. “You…you heard what I said.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Gon laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I followed you to give your prize. It was bad timing.”

“I didn’t mean that like it sounded. It’s not that I’d rather sleep in the mud than share a bed with you.” That sounded bad too, for some reason. He hoped the shadow of the cloak hid his horribly flushing face. “I mean, you don’t disgust or repulse me.” 

“No. I’m like a fine horse. But my room is more comfortable than a stable. Look, I expect nothing from you. No favours of any kind. I’ll try to resist the urge to persuade you to be my bodyguard. It’s just the weather’s wild outside, and you said you were uncomfortable asking strangers for a bed. So I thought I’d offer.”

The lantern light danced over Gon’s face, revealing nothing in his dark eyes but sincere intentions. It was Killua’s first instinct to trust him. But that was so unusual he didn’t trust himself. He’d seen Gon’s guile at work. Possibly he was a Zoldyck spy. Oldest technique in the book, offering to share a bed.

But if Gon was sincere, this was the most generous offer Killua had heard in many moons. He wondered if Gon had overheard Yuzir. He must have seen Killua threaten him. “You’re very trusting.”

“I trust my judgement. I have no intention of insulting you and tempting your blade. You won’t steal from me—you didn’t want the jewel. Besides, you already have it. I’m heading upstairs now. You have your gear, so you can come with me, or if you really prefer the mud, you can leave. What’s it to be, Killua?”

𝕏𝕏

_Note: In medieval times, it was normal for travellers to share a bed with strangers at an inn. Beds often took three or four people._

_Thank you for reading! Subscribe to this work if you'd like to follow. If you'd like to leave comments or kudos, please add them before you vote as that will take you away from this page. If you're curious, you can find previous voting forms under 'The Wishing Hunt' page on my tumblr (fireolin)._

Will Killua choose to brave the storm, or a private room with Gon?

[ Vote here to decide](https://forms.gle/SzCiqnfhgom9iLkDA)

(Votes are now closed! The result will appear soon, in Chapter 3.)

  
  



	3. A Stormy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua chooses between a night outside in the storm or a night in Gon's bed. Gon struggles with an intrinsic weakness. The following morning, Killua receives a new task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last vote, regarding Killua's choice was almost unanimous! Thank you everyone who voted - and for sharing your reasons on the form. At the end of this chapter, there’s a link to the next vote, which will shape their story as it continues.

𝕏𝕏

Killua wiped the rain from his face as he considered Gon’s offer. The lobby door rattled violently behind him. When he’d peered outside, the storm’s cacophony had carried a faint fae drumming, unnoticeable to humans, but enough to set his nerves on edge. To be a greater threat, Gon would need to be hiding something big. Even if Killua did more than simply share a bed, one night wouldn’t undermine his guard. “It’s a kind offer,” he said. “I accept.”

Gon grinned at him. “Come on, then.”

He followed Gon upstairs. They passed the common room on the left, where the rest of the Ghost Arrows would sleep, and turned into the wing that led to the private rooms. The noise from downstairs softened toward the end of the corridor, where an oil lamp flickered in the niche of a small, dusky leadlight window. Gon unlocked the final door with a large iron key (proof against lesser fae, though it wouldn’t keep out a strong fae like Killua). 

The room was as small as Killua had expected, but well appointed, as for a nobleman. The serving staff had prepared it before Gon returned, bolting the wooden shutters closed (the only barrier to outside—no expensive leadlight here) and setting a lantern on one of the two bedside tables. It cast a low but cosy light across the walls. A large water jug sat on a cabinet beneath the window, beside a washbowl. Tapestries depicting Aiai brightened the walls further, and there were hooks for clothes, one already holding a cloak that must be Gon’s. While the bed would only fit two, it looked especially comfortable, with two plump pillows, linen sheets and a quilted cover. At its foot lay a woven mat for a servant.

“This must be the best room in the inn.” Killua had to smile at how fast his luck had changed.

Gon looked slightly embarrassed as he closed the door. “Probably. Bisky has the other.”

“You’re travelling with the witch?”

“For a short while. A friend put me in touch so I could take her advice before I enter Aiai.”

“Ah. So she suggested hiring a bodyguard?” 

“No, I always intended that, but since I have no contacts here, I wanted her opinion on how to find the best one. I need someone trustworthy, knowledgeable, and capable. Many who pass through here aren’t trustworthy. She encouraged me to weed out those who’d be no use strengthwise. She also tested the omens for giving fate a chance to provide. She said they were good.” 

“Your game was her idea too?”

“No. That’s thanks to another friend, once, when I needed to drum up coin fast.”

Gon had mentioned two friends in little time. “You must have many friends,” Killua said. 

Gon tilted his head, as though he’d said something odd. 

It was just, he had no friends outside the Ghost Arrows, so even two in passing sounded like a lot. Killua changed tack. “Yet you’re travelling alone.”

“My hunt is personal. No need to endanger anyone else, unless I’m hiring a professional.” Gon crossed to the washbasin and tapped on the door of the cabinet below. “The chamber pot is in here. You can hang your clothes on the hooks by my cloak. Is there a side of the bed you’d prefer? It makes no difference to me.”

Killua slipped off his cloak and draped it over his arm. “In that case, nearest the window. I’ll check the shutters, if you don’t mind.”

Gon raised an eyebrow, but he stepped back and allowed Killua to pass. Killua set his rolled up cloak on the narrow strip of floor beside the bed, along with his satchel. Then he rattled the wooden shutters. Heavy, oiled iron bolts at the top and bottom held them closed. He could sense a powerful ward on their exterior. Secure enough.

“Satisfied?” Gon had sat on the end of the bed, and was tackling his tall, black leather boots. 

Killua quietly admired how they flattered Gon’s legs. He sat to undo his simpler ankle boots. “Yes. The innkeepers haven’t cut corners. Any fae outside will need good cause to bother breaking in.” 

“You’ve reason for caution?”

Only the usual, nothing he’d share. “I always check out of habit. Habits are most useful when you don’t know you need them.”

Gon gave a rueful smile. “Shame you can’t accept my job. Mind if I ask your advice instead?”

“Other than my advice not to enter Aiai?”

“I’m going in.”

Killua rose, unbuckling his tunic from the neck. “Why?”

“There’s something I want, that I can find nowhere else.”

“You realise everything in Aiai is a trap for humans?”

“I’m skilled at evading traps.”

“Maybe, but these are fae. Plus, everything in there has a price, and usually not in jewels or coin.”

“I’m willing to pay.” Gon placed his boots and belt beneath his cloak, then stripped off his long pants. His legs were indeed well-formed and muscular. Not those of a pampered merchant’s son, but of someone who might climb or haul heavy things. Killua watched as Gon removed his outer tunic, curious about what lay beneath, but Gon remained in his linen undershirt and short braies.

“Well, I guess I can’t dissuade you,” Killua said. “But fae target lone travellers as easy prey, so keep looking for an experienced companion.”

“I will. Until I run out of time.” Gon leaned back on the wall, giving Killua his full attention.

Killua went to hang his tunic alongside Gon’s. “In the first part of Aiai, the dangers are those of the heart. Beware of anyone who tries to seduce you. Avoid any scenes that cast you in the role of hero.” He aimed a serious look at Gon beside him. “Freecss, you were kind to me tonight, but you must harden your heart. Offer no more strangers a space in your bed, or you might never leave it. Don’t seek to prove yourself. Don’t save anyone, no matter how helpless or appealing they may seem.”

“No rescuing fae pretending to be victims.”

“Exactly. Even if walking past them makes you feel monstrous. And if a fae tries to seduce you, reject them without insult. You do _not_ wish to arouse their spite.” He continued undressing. “That’s very difficult for a human. These fae will take your rejection personally if you appear to have no other ties.

“I thought if I was polite…”

“That won’t be enough.” Killua rested the side of his finger on his chin. What might help? It wasn’t something he’d had to ask himself, being fae. But for a human with Gon’s good looks, the right strategy was obvious. “Choose a bodyguard they might mistake for your lover. Turn their tricks back on them. Deceive them.”

“I see.” Gon bit his lip. “But how do I make sure a fae will read us that way?”

“Maybe choose someone _you_ can imagine that way.”

“That counts out most people I wrestled.” Gon frowned. “I guess I don’t have to feel anything real. Is travelling with them enough? Or must we wander through Aiai holding hands?” 

“Probably the latter, when you can. Forgive me, Freecss, but while you’re in stalwart shape”—Gon’s eyes flicked up at him—“you don’t look like a professional fighter. If you travel with someone who does, you’ll look like what you are: a wealthy man travelling with his bodyguard. But you’re also handsome. It’s believable an accomplished fighter would fall for you.”

“I’m flattered,” Gon said, with an upward quirk to the corner of his mouth.

Killua continued in a hurry. “So it wouldn’t hurt to hold hands if someone’s watching—or pretend some other romantic-looking activity. You should probably make that a habit so you’re not caught out. But appearances will only take you so far. Some fae enjoy seducing couples or groups. You and your bodyguard may have to work harder to convince them. Don’t underestimate the pull of those fae. However, if you succeed, you may save yourselves a fight; even your lives.”

“Is this a common strategy?”

“Hardly.” Especially since he’d only just dreamed it up. “Far too many people enter Aiai _hoping_ to be seduced. Many others don’t seem to consider non-magical defences besides fighting. Even if this occurs to them, I suppose many won’t want to pretend affection for very long. They mightn’t be capable of that level of deceit in a way that’s convincing.”

“You think I am?”

“Well.” Killua shrugged. “Only you know that. But you exploited your appearance downstairs.” 

“I guess.” Gon frowned. “It’d feel weird to fake being lovers for long, though. Is that what you’d do, if you went in?”

“I have the skills to travel alone.”

“Hypothetically, say. If you travelled with me.”

“Well… I won’t be.”

“I know you won’t change your mind, Killua.” Gon’s dark eyes pinned him. “And to be clear, this isn’t a personal question. We’re talking about faking. It’s just, if you, having suggested this strategy, wouldn’t agree to act upon it with me, then can I really expect to convince anyone else?”

“I guess that’s fair.” He lowered his gaze. If he said no, Gon would dismiss his advice. Yet if Gon travelled with another human, this strategy would improve his chances and possibly save his life. “I…I might find it uncomfortable.” His face heated. He’d little experience with romance. He’d fucked both fae and humans, yet wooed no one. Soft emotions were embarrassing to admit. His family had always punished him for them—he’d be terrible at faking romance. But he could hold hands. In fact, when they’d arm-wrestled, he’d enjoyed holding Gon’s. “I would do my best. To avoid trouble.”

“You’d do your best with me.”

“Yes.”

“Well. That’s all I could ask of anyone.”

“Yes.” Killua strolled to his side of the bed to avoid more questions. “Think of it as a fight where you use deceit as a shield. At least until you’ve passed through those parts of Aiai. Better still, don’t go.”

“Mm. Some people do return.”

“With shiny trinkets and baubles. Those people are bait to draw others in.”

If Gon hadn’t been unexpectedly decent and kind, Killua wouldn’t feel such an urge to keep trying to dissuade him. He wondered darkly whether, if he fucked Gon well enough, Gon might listen. 

Of course, that was just an excuse to imagine. He wasn’t ready to embarrass himself with an unwanted advance. Even since Gon had made this offer, he’d been a total gentleman. He might throw Killua back out into the storm. 

Instead, thanks to Gon, tonight he’d have everything he’d wished for: a dry bed, a soft pillow to hug, a warm body beside him. “I wish you luck, Freecss,” he said. “Truly.”

𝕏

As Prince of Whale Island, Gon could never have shared his bed with a stranger, but travelling incognito he’d shared many times in stables and inns. Killua Zoldyck seemed both more dangerous and more skittish than many of his past sleeping companions. Gon wanted to put him at ease. As they readied themselves for bed, he resisted the urge to tease Killua like he had downstairs, though it had been fun making someone who could throttle him with one hand blush as though he was only fifteen. He made sure not to eye Killua too much as they changed, although Killua was certainly eyeing him.

Although he _was_ curious to see how strong Killua looked. In his loose linen undergarments, Killua appeared slender and sinewy, broad-shouldered but less bulky than Gon, without the apparent mass to justify his superior strength. It must come from some magical influence in his background.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t human, as Gon could testify. He didn’t know the source of his own unnatural strength, but there were many theories about whatever ran in his bloodline. Ging, his father, had been strong. So had others of his royal ancestors. 

He locked the bedroom door and hung the key back around his neck. “Wake me if you need the key.” 

“Sure.” Killua was sitting on his side of the bed, releasing his topknot from the decorative leather clasp that held it. In the dim light from the lantern, the clasp looked startlingly realistic, carved in the shape of a falcon with gleaming glass beads for eyes. As Killua laid the two silver pins on his bedside table, Gon saw they resembled twigs. “Is that fae jewellery?”

“Yes.” Killua smiled back at him. “Perceptive of you.”

“My father sent pieces home to us. He had direct dealings with fae.”

“So have I. Which is why you should listen to me and not enter Aiai.”

“You know, you’re stronger than me, but I’m not ordinary,” Gon said. It was only here, on the border of Aiai, that he’d met so many others unusually gifted like himself. He’d been stronger than almost everyone he’d wrestled until he’d encountered Killua. It _would_ be foolish for an average person to enter Aiai, but so many gifted individuals at this very inn were evidence to suppose he’d succeed.

Killua shrugged. “Still. You’re not fae.” He unbuckled the knives sheathed at his wrists. “Since you’ve been so generous, I should warn you, I’m a restless sleeper sometimes. If I bother you, wake me. Not suddenly, though. I don’t want to stab you accidentally.” 

“I’ll bear that in mind.” 

Was that what Killua’s half-ogre colleague had meant downstairs? Whatever. It couldn’t have been that bad. If he expected a stranger to refuse to sleep with Killua again, he must also expect that stranger to survive. Anyway, Killua had warned him.

Gon slid his own sheathed dagger under his pillow. As Killua had said earlier—habits. A faint wailing came and went through the hammering rain outside. He shivered. It sounded closer than it had last night. He was glad someone of Killua’s experience had checked the shutters. 

Killua still hadn’t removed the kohl from around his eyes. It didn’t seem like he was going to. “If you’re ready,” Gon said, “I’ll put out the lantern.”

He waited as Killua set his rolled-up cloak over his knives and laid on his side, his head on the cloak, facing away. Killua hugged his pillow to his chest and tugged the covers up over himself. Curled beneath them, he looked somehow forlorn rather than dangerous, except the delicate, snakelike earring that wound around his ear looked ready to wriggle free and bite.

Gon grinned. They were so near Aiai, the sound in the wind had spooked his imagination. 

“Ready,” Killua said.

Gon hesitated. The sheets were darkening slightly around Killua’s cloak. “Are you really going to sleep on that?” 

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“But it’s wet.”

“Is it?”

“Killua.” He waited until Killua twisted to see him. “Why not sleep on your dry pillow?”

“No.” When Gon frowned, Killua added, “I—I can’t.”

They were strangers. Gon didn’t need to know, and it was rude to press. Killua looked embarrassed, but the death grip he appeared to have on his pillow showed he was serious. Maybe he needed it in order to not stab someone.

“You won’t sleep on anything that wet.” Gon crossed the room and seized his own cloak from its hook. “Sleep on mine instead.” He rolled it up as he returned and offered the bundle to Killua. “Swap.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s no big deal.”

Killua grinned, blue eyes sparkling as he exchanged his wet cloak. Gon’s breath caught. It was like the sun breaking through clouds without warning. He hung up Killua’s cloak and put out the lantern. He climbed into bed and turned to the wall in the dark, yet could still see Killua’s radiant face.

𝕏

During the night, the storm broke into thunder. Gon awoke to flashes of lightning that penetrated the shutters and scattered jagged shadows across the stone wall. Peals of laughter sounded through the thunder. Drums rolled and pipes howled like the wind through narrow passes. It could only be the sound of a fae troupe. 

His heart pounded. He wanted to leap from bed and fling the shutters open. Whatever type of fae they were, they weren’t attempting seduction. They were making merry in the storm—liberated among their own kind in a way he could never be among his. His blood vibrated through his veins; he fought to keep his breathing even. 

This was his weakness. They had called to Ging, and Ging had gone and left him, right then, alone in the forest. He’d been five years old, but he’d never forgotten. He’d promised Mito that if he ever felt that call on his travels, he wouldn’t follow. He’d return to Whale Island and rule.

Killua tossed behind him. The racket outside wouldn’t help a restless sleeper. Would Killua wake and stop him if he went to the window, in time before he leapt out?

It was well Killua was here. Gon gritted his teeth. This was why he needed a bodyguard stronger than him, though he hadn’t admitted that to anyone. A necessity that they be able to hold him down. If the troupe was closer, if there were no shutters between him and them, he might be unable to resist.

The thought of Killua holding him down was exciting. Those intensely blue eyes staring deep into his, commanding him to stay. Insanely powerful hands pinning his wrists. That arrogant mouth, close enough to kiss. A distraction from the piercing laughter and strange music on the wind.

A longing took hold of his bones. His shoulder ached where he’d struggled against Killua.

The bed shook. Behind him, Killua whispered in a strange tongue. A soft thud, something falling to the floor. Something bashed into Gon’s calf. He hissed a curse and shifted closer to his edge of the bed. He’d be bruised in the morning. Maybe that half-ogre meant kicking, not stabbing. At least Killua hadn’t grabbed one of his knives. 

_Shit._ Gon rolled over to face Killua, just in case.

But for the lightning, the room should have been pitch black. The pale, bluish light that intruded past the shutters must be from the fae troupe. It limned Killua’s form. He lay twitching now and then, facing the window, having kicked or thrown the covers half-off to the middle of the bed.

Gon raised himself on one elbow carefully, to see that Killua didn’t appear to be clutching any knives. His hair glowed like starlight. His face and neck were so luminously pale, Gon could have fooled himself that he lay in bed with a fae. Movement beneath Killua’s blackened eyelid showed he must be dreaming.

The music outside grew louder. A woman’s laugh vibrated on the wind. Killua cried out and turned onto his back, grinding his shoulders into the mattress. He grimaced as if in pain, and flung his arm out sideways, hitting Gon’s biceps. 

“Killua,” Gon whispered. 

Perhaps the sound of the fae troupe was affecting him. Who knew what dealings he’d had with them? If he woke and understood they were safe, he might calm down. 

Gon laid his hand gently on Killua’s upper arm—also bracing to soften any blows if Killua lashed out again. “Hey.”

Killua moaned loudly and rolled toward Gon. He came off the cloak and snaked an arm around Gon’s waist, hooked his leg around Gon’s, and burrowed into his front.

Gon stilled, arm hovering over Killua. 

What to do? This wasn’t the reaction for which he’d braced himself.

He gingerly lowered his arm around Killua, the only place it could go, and laid his head on his pillow. Killua’s breath heated his chest. Soft hair brushed his chin. 

Killua didn’t know what he was doing. Should he keep trying to wake him? 

The storm crashed outside. The fae troupe shrieked and sang. Through their shirts, Killua’s warmth sank into Gon. The illusion of intimacy.

It had been a while since Gon had held anyone other than during a fight or a brief lover’s embrace. This was different. It felt like when he’d slept with the wolves as a boy, settling in for the night among the pack. Killua seemed calmer now. He shifted against Gon’s chin. His breathing had slowed. He must be taking some form of comfort. 

Gon could give him that much. He’d grown accustomed to it, with the wolves. If Killua woke, well…. It was Killua who’d grabbed him. 

And Killua was an anchor. 

From within his embrace, the troupe outside seemed nothing more than jangling sounds: the squeak of trees rubbing against each other, the crack of branches, a distant howl.

Gon smelled something coppery, but as he bent his nose to Killua’s hair, he smelled something sweet and wild. 

If only Killua would be his bodyguard.

But he tamped down the rest of his imagination as the void inside him threatened to open. He could countenance no ‘amorous relationships’, as he’d promised Mito before he left—nothing serious with anyone, since it wasn’t fair to them and risked his kingdom’s future. Besides, Killua had assessed him as a fine horse, not a fine man. Even if they weren’t parting in the morning, their lives were worlds apart, and someone like Killua would never stay with someone like him.

𝕏

Killua dreamed he embraced a warm boulder. His wings lay spread behind him to dry in the sun. But he didn’t have wings anymore. No, no—he did. That had all been a dream. No. _This_ was the dream. A bitter pang pulled him from sleep. He was holding not a boulder, but a person.

His cheeks stung as he realised he’d latched onto Gon. Something must have disturbed him enough to make him drop the pillow. They were safe here, so he could only guess at what. Although Gon didn’t seem to object. His arm lay heavily around Killua too, in a relaxed embrace. He could feel Gon’s slow breathing. Even their legs were comfortably wound together. This felt better than hugging a pillow. Better than the warm bodies of his companions, who on the rare occasion they shared a bed, would never hold him. This was everything he’d longed for over months of travel and not confessed to a soul. He didn’t want to move.

Did Gon know? Killua peered up at him. Morning light leaked in, gently illuminating Gon’s throat. His pulse barely flickered, as though he still slept. Surely Gon had not started this? More likely, he’d responded unconsciously to Killua’s embrace. There was no telling how he’d react when he awoke.

Gon wasn’t Yuzir. He wouldn’t struggle not to bite Killua, and if Gon took offense for any reason and wanted to fight, he wouldn’t crush him. Killua _could_ safely enjoy this. But it would be awkward to explain. His sleeping quirk wasn’t normal for most humans, or even mature fae. Whatever he said, he’d humiliate himself.

It took all his fae stealth to extricate himself carefully without waking Gon. When he finally rolled off the bed, he rewarded himself with a stretch. After sleeping like that, he felt more rested than he had in an age.

The rain had subsided to a light patter outside, so he could travel today. A frisson ran through him as he imagined seeing his sisters. He opened the shutters a crack, allowing in enough light to get ready to go downstairs. As he strapped his knives back onto his wrists, Gon stirred. “Killua,” he murmured.

“Morning,” Killua said, bestowing a well-deserved friendly smile upon him. “How did you sleep?”

“Good.” Gon leaned up on his elbow with an equally friendly smile. “And you?”

“Like the proverbial log.” 

Killua relaxed as he detected no trace of embarrassment in Gon’s face, nor any hint of a smirk; definitely no anger, nor even a question. Only goodwill. He must not know. Killua collected the pillow from the floor and swapped it for Gon’s cloak. “Good of you to lend me this.” He strolled over to hang it up with the rest of Gon’s clothes. 

“It’s fine.” Gon propped both pillows behind him and lay back with his arms behind his rumpled hair as he watched Killua. “Your advice will be invaluable. I’m glad we ran into each other.”

Fuck, he looked inviting, posed like that. Was he doing it on purpose? Killua turned away as he dressed. One night in a strangers’ warm embrace, and all he wanted was to crawl back into those willing arms.

They made casual conversation as Killua finished fixing his eyes and topknot. When he was ready to go downstairs, he went to shake Gon’s hand. “One more thing.” He frowned. “You can’t distinguish between fae and humans. Don’t trust anyone in Aiai the way you have me.” 

𝕏

As he headed downstairs, Killua scowled at the thought of some vicious fae getting their hands on Gon in Aiai. The very generosity with which he’d made Killua’s night would be his end. He didn’t know he’d just slept in the arms of a fae. Imagine if he embraced the wrong one. 

The dining room was already bustling, full of travellers keen to leave after two days of delay. He found the rest of the Ghost Arrows gathered around their cups at the corner table they’d used last night, gambling over cards to pass the time until Alissander arrived. They looked as rested as possible after only one night catching up on sleep, though not as rested as Killua felt. 

Rotha narrowed her eyes at him as he reached them, then at the cloak over his arm. “I expected you’d be soaking wet. Your cloak’s nearly dry. Where’d you find a bed?”

“In a…uh…private room.”

Summer muttered a curse in her native language. “How do you get all the luck?”

“It wasn’t luck.”

Inreer raised an eyebrow. Yuzir shot Killua a dark look, then stewed behind the array of cards he held. Rotha leaned back in her chair and smiled. “You _didn’t_ ,” she said.

“Didn’t what?” He felt himself flush.

“You _did!_ You took my advice. You shared with that man, like I suggested.”

He folded his arms. “So what if I did?”

“Good.” She nodded sagely. “Better than settling for the mud. And so…” She leaned in and tilted her head. “Did you...?” Her smile lifted at the corner.

“Did I _what?_ ” He sighed. “Rotha. If you must know, nothing happened. We shared a bed, same as you all did. And for what it’s worth, _he_ approached me, I did _not_ have to beg.”

“He must have liked you,” Winter said, his arm around Summer.

“He did not.”

Yuzir glared at Killua. 

He groaned. “Why are you _all_ so interested?”

“The price of friendship,” Rotha said.

“We’re your family,” Inreer added, with a grin.

“Families don’t need to know everything.”

Yuzir growled, “Knew you were hiding something.” 

“There’s nothing to hide. I couldn’t take his job, so he wanted my advice. That’s all.” He aimed a cutting glance at Yuzir. “For the record, he’d share with me again. He doesn’t want to stab me, and we’re still speaking.”

It was a relief to have Alissander arrive at his elbow. “Killua! Good to see you survived the night.” He patted Killua’s shoulder. “Not that I doubted. Now, come with me.”

𝕏

Alissander led him to a table in a private alcove. As they left the main room, Killua cast a glance back to see if Gon had arrived downstairs. No sign of him yet. Maybe he wouldn’t come down. Killua felt a stab of regret. They might have become friends in other circumstances, but soon Gon would be trapped or dead. 

It was his choice, though. Killua had warned him. He shouldn’t feel bad.

A serving girl laid two jugs on the table, one of warm milk, another of cider, and two mugs. 

“Good of you,” Killua said to Alissander, and poured himself the milk. It was fresh, warm and creamy, even sweetened with honey, just the way he liked it. He didn’t normally indulge such a fae habit among the guards, but Alissander had arranged things so the others wouldn’t see.

“It’s an apology in advance,” Alissander said. “I need you to do something for me.” 

Killua took a long, delicious draft of milk and tried not to react to the sinking feeling in his stomach. Any task would steal his precious time with Alluka and Nanika.

“I need you to go into Aiai,” Alissander said bluntly. “There’s a talisman I need you to procure.”

His stomach finished its descent with a thud. Killua swallowed and set down his mug. “How far in? Are we talking hours, or a day or two?”

“Longer, but I can’t say exactly how long.” Alissander produced a battered piece of vellum and flattened it between them. “It’s somewhere at the top of this mountain.” He tapped a peak in the middle of a range well inside the border. “This isn’t a cartographer’s map, the distances aren’t to scale. It could take you a moon to get there and back, or twice that, not including whatever you’ll face on the way.”

“A whole moon.” Killua bit back a curse. “You promised me leave. And you’re a Promise Keeper. How does that work?”

“Indeed.” Alissander nudged his guild hat. “I know what I’m asking, and I will honour that promise when you return. Technically though, I don’t have to. You’ve to work another five moons before you’ve finished earning it.”

Killua shook his head. “You said I would take it now, same as everyone else, so it won’t interrupt the Company’s business.”

“And that was true until last night. After you left, I received this map from my contact.”

“Your contact?”

“The witch, Biscuit Krueger. I hired her to keep an eye out last time I was in Sweetwater.”

“Really.” Killua frowned. The shadow of a suspicion formed in his mind. “Did she know when you were returning?”

“Oh yes. I sent a message ahead to be sure she had her findings ready.”

She must have expected Alissander would return with a trustworthy guard capable of entering Aiai. Then Gon had met her, asking for advice. She’d had the map. She’d know if their quests were compatible and lay in the same direction. Hmm. He drummed his fingers on his mug. Of course she’d told Gon the omens were good. “I see.”

But that meant nothing. He wasn’t going, alone or with Gon. “I promised my sisters I’d see them.”

“Then I’ll send them a message on your behalf. Opportunities like this are rare. There’ll be others already hunting it down.”

“You’re not giving me a choice?”

“You can always go work for someone else.”

He gripped his mug hard with both hands. Fuck. He didn’t want that. He couldn’t tell Alluka and Nanika he had quit just to see them. They’d be furious if he sacrificed anything else for their sakes. He glanced up at Alissander through the veil of his eyelashes. 

Alissander waited.

“All right,” Killua said reluctantly. The milk had a sour aftertaste. He no longer wanted it. “I’ll send my sisters a message myself.” Their location must remain secret, even from Alissander. “So tell me. What is this talisman?”

Alissander leaned forward, and said in a conspiratorial tone, “It’s called the Rose Amulet. It grants the bearer the power to compel others to fall in love with them.”

“Totally unethical.” He sat back and jabbed his finger at Alissander. “ _You_ don’t deal in that kind of thing. Why do you want it?”

Alissander’s eyes widened. “I don’t. I’d _never_ use such a foul thing. No, no.” He took a swig of his cider. “But the future of the Ghost Arrow Company depends on us bringing it back to my guild for safe keeping.”

“Safe keeping?” Killua let his mouth curl. “You mean, to add to their coffers.”

“I concede that truth. But they _will_ also keep the talisman out of unscrupulous hands.”

“Will they promise no one will use it?”

“Well…a need _may_ arise.” Alissander spread his hands helplessly. “They promise nothing they can’t guarantee.”

“Hypocrites.”

Alissander took another gulp of cider and wagged a finger at him. “That’s not your concern. We must gain it for the guild, or we lose our license.”

“That’s stupid. Our capabilities haven’t changed.”

“It’s human tradition, Killua. Every guild demands its dues. The Ghost Arrow Company must prove itself every five years by fulfilling a promise. I chose this task out of those available last year, right before I hired you.”

“So _this_ is the real reason you hired me?”

“Correct. And in the last eight moons, you’ve proved I can trust you.” 

Killua heaved a sigh. “I thought this job wouldn’t take me into fae realms. What happens if you lose your license?”

“We can no longer travel legally unchallenged through the regions. That will cost most of my business. I’ll have to disband us.”

They’d all go their separate ways. Permanently.

The Ghost Arrows were all capable. They’d each be fine. Killua shouldn’t feel responsible for them. But it would be the end of something special. Not everyone was as talented as Alissander at selecting a disparate group that could come together as something more. They’d killed together. They’d gambled and fought and laughed. They’d saved each other’s lives. For all their flaws, the other Ghost Arrows had become the nearest thing he’d experienced to a family outside his twisted version of home. He’d miss each one of them, especially Rotha, and even Yuzir. He didn’t take that for granted, and he suspected neither did they.

“The guild gave me something to help you find it.” Alissander passed a small pouch across the table. “Inside is a vial with a drop of blood from a past victim of the talisman. It will glow when you’re close. An edge I expect no one else has.”

“Fine. Anything else I should know?”

“Something for you to consider. If I, a Promise Keeper, send you into Aiai, others will notice. They’ll assume you’re after something unique and valuable. It would be best if you seem to work for someone else.”

“I can take care of myself,” Killua said.

Alissander tugged his beard. “The witch suggested she can help with that too. Nothing too challenging—typical work a guard might pick up on a moon’s leave.”

“Did she really?”

“And if you agree, you’ll get paid twice over. Once for each job.”

Doubtless she would too. For a pretty young witch, Biscuit Krueger was a crafty old bat. 

“Do I get a choice this time?”

“Yes. You’re the one doing the job. I trust you know how to do it best.”

Killua sipped his milk. It would be faster to travel alone, unencumbered, but there were others as swift as him. He could avoid trouble, maybe kill fewer people, if he disguised his intent. Something fluttered in his chest. If he travelled with Gon, he could protect him. If they were both going to Aiai, the thought of Gon with a different bodyguard felt utterly wrong. 

In fact, it had ever since he’d awakened this morning in Gon’s arms. Which was a good reason not to trust that feeling.

What if Gon had emerged downstairs and already found another bodyguard?

_I found the one I wanted. But he refused._

For a moment, Killua felt lightheaded. Everything had changed since last night. He gripped the edge of the table as he stood. “Excuse me. I need to go sort this.” 

  
𝕏𝕏

_Thank you for reading! Subscribe to this work if you'd like to follow. If you'd like to leave comments or kudos, please add them before you vote as that will take you away from this page. If you're curious, you can find previous voting forms under 'The Wishing Hunt' page on my tumblr (fireolin)._

_Soon Killua and Gon leave for Aiai. What kind of encounters will they face, and what kind of fae?_   
  
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_Votes close Friday 19th February 2020 at Midnight UTC time_


	4. Take My Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua and Gon finally leave for Aiai, hoping to make it through the forest to the first village by nightfall. However, once a human enters Aiai, they become fair game for all kinds of fae. Traversing the forest isn't as simple as it sounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who voted for the kinds of encounters in Aiai! At the end of this chapter, there’s a link to the results. And, there's a link to the next vote, which will shape their story as it continues.

𝕏𝕏

The dining room bustled with traders, misguided romantic adventurers, treasure hunters, and professional guards, all sharpening weapons, tossing down mugs of cider and refastening their packs, getting ready to leave Sweetwater now the two-day storm had lifted. Unfortunately, Gon could see no sign of Killua, only his colleagues playing cards in the far corner. At a table by a window, he sighed. So much for Bisky’s omens. He couldn’t spy Killua in the yard outside either, though the woman he’d arm-wrestled last night and her two companions were setting out on foot toward Aiai. He’d have liked to be doing the same, preferably with Killua beside him.

Especially after the terrible allure of the fae troupe last night. He might not be here this morning if not for Killua. Yet Killua had given no sign he’d heard the troupe, nor that he realised he’d spent half the night in Gon’s arms. It hadn’t felt right to say anything. Either Killua was embarrassed and pretending that hadn’t happened, or it really hadn’t happened, and Gon would make them both uncomfortable if he revealed that he’d dreamt it. 

Maybe Bisky was right, and he’d find a superior bodyguard to Killua, but he doubted it. Regardless, he’d soon need to leave. With only so many sapphires remaining, he might better use them as bribes within Aiai.

“Gon.” Killua’s voice—Gon’s heart skipped a beat. He turned from the window to find Killua seating himself on the stool opposite and wearing an urgent expression. Killua asked, “Have you found anyone yet?”

“No. I thought you’d gone. What’s happened?”

“I had a meeting with my boss. I want to discuss your job. There’s a chance I can take it.”

“Really?” Gon said, leaning forward. “That’s fantastic. What chance?”

“Turns out there’s something I have to do in Aiai. If I’m going there anyway, I thought I might take your job at the same time—if you’re open to that.”

“Ah.” Gon frowned. So this wasn’t the gift it first seemed. “You wouldn’t only be my bodyguard then? I need someone who can be with me all the time—and, commit from start to finish.” Much as he hated admitting it, last night had reinforced that.

“That’s why we need to discuss the detail. Can we talk in confidence?”

“Of course.”

Killua lowered his voice. He explained his boss needed him to procure a particular talisman and had advised him to go into Aiai under cover. It would suit him to use Gon’s job for that purpose, so long as Gon agreed.

“I won’t be used,” Gon said. He hadn’t travelled all this way just for that. Much as he admired Killua’s fighting ability and could use his experience, those things would only be useful when focussed as Gon wanted. Not on some unrelated quest. And yet, he’d had no luck finding anyone else. Killua seemed exceptional, out of all those he’d come across. Gon sucked in his lip. Could it work? “I’m not here for your sake. If I agree and there’s a conflict between our goals...mine has to come first.”

“That’s fine. So long as you agree to pay me, I’ll go wherever you need for as long as it takes. If you commit to including my task in our journey, I’ll commit to protecting you throughout your entire trip.”

“I haven’t told you what my goal is yet.”

“No, but my boss knows your witch, and you told her.” Killua’s lip curled. “They discussed our potential arrangement. It should be fine as long as you’re not planning on murdering anyone.”

“Definitely not. I’m after a wish, something personal that will do no harm.”

“There’s always a price, though. Can you guarantee that won’t hurt anyone?”

“Only me, if it’s harmful. Otherwise, I’ll negotiate something different.”

“Idiot.” Killua’s gaze was unsparing. “This had better be important to you.”

Gon’s face heated. He understood the cynicism, but he’d wager that as a prince, he was better and more experienced than Killua at negotiations. However, he didn’t need to justify himself. “It is.” He cocked his head. “So how do Bisky and your boss know each other?” 

“They met professionally.” Killua explained the basic event. “So she knew someone like me would be here now. I hope you didn’t pay her much to read those omens.”

“Are you saying your offer isn’t good news?”

“No.” Killua rolled his eyes. “I mean, she didn’t read any omens. She took advantage of you.”

“I know what you mean. Bisky might be wrong about the omens, but she wouldn’t lie about reading them. Your boss bringing someone like you here was just chance. He might have come here expecting to hire someone, like I did.” 

“Sure.” Killua sat back, his expression a touch condescending, as though he thought Gon naïve. 

“You know,” Gon said, “after Bisky saw us arm-wrestle last night, she said I might find someone better.” He watched Killua carefully.

Killua blinked. “Did she really?”

“Yes, she did. Maybe I’m being too hasty.”

Killua wet his lips. “I suggest she’s wrong.”

“Mm.” Gon smiled—Killua really did want this job. He relented. “She couldn’t have known how perfect you’d be for me.” Killua’s gaze shifted away. A trace of pink rose in his cheeks. Gon assured him, “You’re knowledgeable and the strongest person I’ve met in Sweetwater by far.” 

Killua gave a weak smile. “Glad you think so. Then do we have a deal?”

“We do indeed.”

𝕏

Gon gathered his things from upstairs, then returned downstairs and finally found Bisky sitting at their usual table in her distinctive red dress and cape. As she rose to greet him, she appraised his cloak and equipment. “You’re leaving?” 

“Yes.” He couldn’t restrain his grin. “I found my bodyguard.” 

Her eyebrows rose as he explained. “You offered him your bed?”

He laughed. “It wasn’t like that. You suggesting that arrangement to his boss had something to do with it. Thank you. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”

“You’re welcome. I think a fighter like him wouldn’t have agreed unless you won him over.” She blinked rapidly, her beribboned pigtails bobbing as she looked him up and down. “Well, young man, you have all my advice now, even if you ignore it. At least the odds of your survival have improved.” Not for the first time, Gon wondered if her appearance hid her correct age—although he wouldn’t be rude enough to ask. Maybe she felt older than him, having gained the wisdom of a witch. “Curse it,” she said, “I’ve enjoyed travelling with you.” She whipped a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and waved it at him. “It’s almost as though you’re my grown son. Go, before I get too sentimental.”

He waited outside in the misty rain for Killua to say goodbye to his companions. Alissander, Killua’s boss, was nowhere to be seen. Understandable, given this job was to be Killua’s cover. Three of the Ghost Arrows cast curious looks at Gon and commiserating ones at Killua. Hopefully, they were regarding Killua’s misfortune at missing out on leave, rather than him leaving with Gon in particular. The blonde woman aimed a friendly smile in Gon’s direction. But the half-ogre, hanging back behind the others, shot him a glare that made him glad to be ten paces distant.

He watched as Killua clasped wrists with them, one after the other. The blonde was having none of that, and pulled him into a fierce hug. By the time she let go, the backs of Killua’s ears had turned pink. He blushed easily, a trait Gon found both entertaining and humanising in an otherwise intimidating man. The ogre came last, waiting with his brawny arms folded across his massive chest. His handsome, thick-featured face twisted in a dark scowl. Killua paused a moment, then went to him.

Gon couldn’t hear what Killua said, but the ogre nodded, and his expression softened. He patted Killua’s shoulder. Killua stared down at his feet. Then he wrapped his arms around the enormous man, clinching him. The ogre’s cheeks darkened and his big hands fumbled for Killua’s waist. Gon hadn’t known ogres could blush, but then he was half human.

Killua released the ogre and crossed the yard to Gon. “Let’s go.” 

“What was that?” Gon asked, matching Killua’s pace out the gate onto the single muddy road through Sweetwater. “I thought you hated each other.”

“Me and Yuzir? I don’t hate him.” Killua glanced sideways at Gon. “You must have seen me threaten him last night. Well, if I’d really wanted to kill him, he’d be dead.”

“I believe you. Was there something between you once?”

Killua opened his mouth and paused. After a beat, his words came out. “We were— We’re colleagues. What do you mean?”

Gon grinned. “Was he your ex?”

“No. What makes you think that?”

Gon shrugged. “Just his manner. I thought, maybe.”

“Well, no. He wasn’t.”

Killua didn’t elaborate, and Gon decided not to press. It didn’t matter. He was lucky to have Killua as his bodyguard. It would be a poor start to get him offside.

To reach the village inside Aiai that Bisky had recommended by nightfall, they had to journey through the forest beyond Sweetwater fast. But Gon could feel a spring in his step after spending two days cooped up. As they left Sweetwater, he used some of the coins he’d won to buy a few supplies from the handful of shops along the road: tough bread studded with nuts and fruit, a hard wedge of cheese, medicinal herbs. An old woman near the outskirts of the village called out selling honey cakes as they passed. At Killua’s urging, they stopped and bought as many as he could wrap in a large cloth he pulled from his satchel. 

“Fae like them,” Killua explained to Gon, licking stray honey from his fingers after he’d tried a couple. “We might need the rest as offerings.” 

“Seriously?”

Killua packed the bulging parcel back in his bag. “Possibly. Plus, sometimes it won’t be safe to eat the fae food.”

“Hm. Maybe we should go back. Those cakes won’t last long.”

“Won’t they?” Killua made a blue-eyed attempt at an innocent look. 

Gon snorted a laugh and shook his head. “If you want them for yourself, that’s okay. You said you’ve been in the wilderness a few moons. Is there anything else you want while we can still get it?”

Killua’s eyebrows lifted. “No. That’s everything.” A brief, beautiful smile lit his face.

Sun broke through a gap in the clouds, lighting the misting rain in glowing shafts as they took a narrow track past crimson flowering bushes into the overgrown trees. Gon had asked about riding horses, but Killua had advised that was the wrong way to travel into Aiai. Unless they shared a horse, it would be too easy to get separated, and they’d have to keep the horse safe and each other. The beech canopy closed over them as the track took them down to a wooden bridge that arched across a swollen creek.

“This is the border,” Killua said. It felt like it to Gon—the light here seemed different from back at the inn. Rain shone in Killua’s hair like dew, lighting him like the fae light had through the shutters in the night. “Sure you want to cross?” he asked. “Once we do, you’re fair game for fae.”

“That’s why you’re here,” Gon said, and offered Killua his hand.

Killua stared at his outstretched palm. 

“Your idea,” Gon reminded him. “If we don’t start pretending now, how will we know when we need to? That’s what you meant, wasn’t it, when you were talking about habits?”

“True.” Killua took Gon’s hand in a wet grip, thanks to the weather. “There could be fae anywhere.”

“Yeah. I really hope we see some.” 

“You’re mad,” Killua said, as they continued over the bridge.

They set a rapid pace—distinctly unromantic if any fae were watching, not that Gon desired to slow down. As the rushing song of the river dwindled behind them, the forest darkened and the air grew cooler. The tree trunks broadened, and the canopy thickened overhead. It felt different to the forest on Whale Island, where he knew practically every root. There, the roots didn’t feel as if they might shift when you weren’t looking. While he sometimes imagined creatures’ faces in the gnarled burls of trees, he didn’t experience the same sense of being watched by creatures he could never quite glimpse when he turned. He didn’t ask Killua about that, in case it was only imagination, but if he’d been alone, he might have wandered from the path to seek them out.

However, Killua’s hand, firm and warm in his, tethered him to their route. He might not confess it to Killua, but it felt good to walk like this, even if the sense of companionship was just the result of him paying for Killua’s service. Water dripped down from the trees, indistinguishable in sound from tiny pattering footsteps in the forest. Wet leaves and mud stuck to his boots and the hems of his and Killua’s cloaks. The path vanished into tree roots and creepers, then the few imprints of other travellers’ boots became impossible to decipher, if they existed at all. The shadow of a distant peak just visible through the mist at the top of each ridge became their guide, otherwise Gon would have thought them lost.

Killua dropped his hand as they entered a small clearing carpeted with blue forget-me-nots that seemed all the brighter for the misty atmosphere. “This is a good place.”

“Good for what?”

“I need to send a message.” Killua unpinned his topknot and shook his hair free. “Since we’re travelling together, you’ll have to see this, but you mustn’t tell anyone.”

Gon raised an eyebrow. “Sure.” 

What could be so secret? He watched carefully as Killua held his leather hair clasp in one hand and whispered over it in a foreign tongue that made Gon’s insides shiver. The clasp twisted and grew and unfolded and stretched out wings until a life-size black falcon perched on Killua’s left wrist, preening itself. 

Gon’s heart galloped.

“He won’t hurt you unless I order it,” Killua said, smiling at his astonishment. “Would you mind holding him?”

“Would I?” Gon offered his forearm before Killua could change his mind. The falcon climbed on. “I’ve never seen magic like this. He feels real.”

“Many magical things do.”

“Can I stroke him?”

“Sure.” Killua carefully fastened a tube he must have prepared sometime earlier to the bird’s leg. 

Gon ran his fingertips gently through the bird’s plumage. “He’s so soft. Beautiful.”

“He is.” Killua’s voice held a tinge of wistfulness. He held out his wrist, and the bird hopped back on. Killua stroked the falcon’s feathers and whispered to him. Then he flung out his arm, and the bird soared up into the sky.

Gon swallowed. “That—that’s incredible.” He longed to see it again. “Can you do that with all your jewellery?”

“That specifically? No. But other pieces have magical uses.”

“Which ones?”

“Only some.” Killua touched his snake earring, which Gon was already staring at, hoping it might wriggle. “Don’t worry, they’re inert unless I choose. I gathered them while I was living among the fae.”

“Was that their language you just spoke?”

“Yes. It would have been hard to live with them otherwise.” 

“Do the rest of your colleagues know?”

“Well, yes. That’s part of my value to them. And now, to you.” Killua offered his hand again. “Let’s go.”

This time, as Gon took it, he was aware of Killua’s rings near his fingers. Which ones were magic? “I’d love to see some of your magical pieces work, if you’re willing.”

“Maybe. If I decide I can trust you enough. I don’t want to have to kill you for giving my secrets away.”

“That’s fair.” Gon’s mind was still reeling. To say the omens were good had been an understatement. “I think I’m underpaying you. Will your falcon come back?”

“In a day or two, he’ll find me.”

“Gods. I can’t wait to see that.”

Killua tipped his head like the bird. “It’s good you’re not afraid, Freecss. But be wary. Magic is dangerous.”

𝕏

As they continued, the rain stopped completely, but mist hung between the trees, chilling the air and draining colour from the forest. Low hanging cloud surrounded the next ridge, hiding the distant peak that guided them. They descended into a cloud-filled valley and the fog sealed them in. Back on Whale Island, Gon could always count on the roar of the sea to find his way to the edge of the forest. Here in the fog, there was only the soft staccato of thousands of drips, like a sea cave when the tide had just run out. 

Birdsong chimed nearby, lifting his skin in goosebumps. Beautiful. There was no echo, as if the fog smothered the sound like a pillow. Not a breath of wind, yet the fog spiralled between the ancient trunks.

“This isn’t good,” Killua said in a soft voice. His grip on Gon’s hand tightened. “Keep hold of me. If we let go, the fog will try to separate us.”

“What is this?”

“Some kind of trap or test. Don’t ask me what kind. I’m not familiar with the fae here.”

“Should we go back to the ridge? Find another route?”

“I think if we turn around, we’ll get lost.”

“So we keep going?”

“Straight ahead until we’re through.”

“Or straight into a trap.”

“Yes.”

Gon stretched his senses as far as they’d reach in the fog. In the strange light, water shone like shards of crystal on the thigh-high, moss-covered roots they climbed over. The tree trunks were as thick as houses and as gnarled as the sea-carved caverns back home. Faint lights shone from hidden places in their boughs, shrouded in hanging moss.

More birds joined the first in a breathtakingly musical performance, punctuated with occasional flutters overhead. When he glanced up, he might have seen movement, but it was the same colour as the fog. Something brushed his cheek, soothing as a feather, gone before he realised. Maybe it had been a feather, for white specks of down now flecked his and Killua’s cloaks. 

He couldn’t tell how long or far they’d tramped when his muscles began to ache, but he could picture himself curling up in one of the many mossy hollows among the giant roots until his strength returned, while the birds’ song soothed him to sleep. Or he could just as easily listen as he sank into the mass of tiny creepers quilting the forest floor.

He struggled on, saying nothing because Killua moved as if there were no limits to his endurance. It was odd. Gon caught yet another branch as they passed to stop himself stumbling. He hadn’t thought himself this weak. He’d been itching to move after the storm—arm-wrestling hadn’t been nearly enough to spend his stored energy. On Whale Island, after lengthy indoor duties as a prince, he’d often relieve himself with multi-day treks through the hills. Now he couldn’t last a few hours. His eyes grew heavy, his knees weakened.

Killua tugged his hand. “Freecss, we have to keep going.”

“Huh?” He’d drifted off, lulled by the constant song. He could hear human voices now—if something so exquisite could be human. Another soaring note sent goosebumps across his skin. 

“You’ve slowed down,” Killua said. 

“Oh. Right.” His boots felt like stone. He dragged them forward. The melody swelled above in a mesmerising rhythm. “Mmm...”

“Don’t hum.”

“What?”

“You’ll call more of them.”

“They’re wondrous.” He hummed again, mimicking the tiniest fraction of their sound to recall later.

“Freecss!” Killua switched his grip and drove his fingernails into Gon’s wrist.

Gon gasped. “Gods, your nails are sharp!”

“Your senses are confused,” Killua said. In the pain's wake in Gon’s wrist, the song receded and he could lift his feet more easily. “Don’t look up,” Killua added. “Those aren’t birds, they’re sirens. We’re unlucky to stumble across them.”

“Sirens.” Their songs lured their victims. 

“We just have to get past them. We’re safe as long as we keep moving.”

Already their song called to Gon again. It seemed to sink through his skin into his bones. He knew the stories. He’d never imagined he’d want to hear sirens’ voices, yet he ached to hear them to the end. “But we could stay.” His voice sounded rough and ugly in contrast. “Just long enough to hear their complete song.”

“Gon. Remember why you’re here. We have to get through the forest before dark.”

Yes, remember. He sought a wish—an answer to his question before duty tied him to the throne forever. Important to no one but him; however, he’d travelled too far to give that up for a song. 

Or had he? What human voice could match this beauty?

Nothing he’d heard in any royal court came close. The melody wound around him, sometimes pulling him down, other times lifting him, gifting his spirit wings. He could lie here and soar free of duty, free of cares—free of all his inadequacies. There was a thrum of wings behind him and a woman’s voice chimed in his ear. A wave of exhaustion broke over him and he bumped into Killua’s side.

The fog thickened abruptly. Shadows loomed, and he stumbled. Spiky twigs tugged at his cloak and the unravelling threads of his will. He trod on a mound of moss that gave way beneath him with a brittle crack. A rack of broken bones scraped the side of his boot, grey-white against the black leather. 

“Human remains,” Killua said, his grip a manacle tugging Gon on. There were other low mounds among the trees—he’d thought nothing of them until now. “Move. Don’t give in. I can’t carry you because I won’t be able to fight the sirens without dropping you. I might not find you again before they steal you away.”

“I need to hear them.”

“Fuck.” Killua let go of Gon’s wrist and slung his arm around Gon’s shoulders, half-lifting him as they walked. “Look at me.”

He met Killua’s stare. In the half-light within the mist, Killua’s eyes shone like blue ice. The smudged kohl around them made them seem brighter, unearthly, as though a veil had lifted. “Focus on me,” Killua demanded. His tone made Gon’s stomach swoop. The blues shifted in Killua’s eyes, pulling him into worlds of sky or sea or ice, none of which made any sense—and yet he felt as though the fog in his mind cleared a fraction and a cold shard of fear settled in his chest. 

Killua said, “Block your ears.”

He jammed his fingers into both ears. “This won’t be enough. I can still hear them.” 

“Everything helps.” Killua’s voice was muffled but understandable as he guided them on.

“You’re not affected.”

“I have some immunity to fae magic from when I lived with them. This music is beautiful, but whatever it is you’re feeling, I’m not sharing it.”

“Did you deal with sirens then?”

“I only heard about them.”

“I— I didn’t realise when their magic affected me.” Gon drew a deep breath and admitted, “I can’t fight something I don’t sense. If I’d come in here without you, I’d…” He jerked his chin at another mound covered in creepers.

“Well, we’re not out yet.” Killua’s tone had softened. “It might take a while, since we’ve stopped going straight. It’s harder when some trees move, and the fog.”

“I’ll walk as far as we have to. How long have we been going?”

“I can’t tell. That’s another thing. Our sense of time may be different here.” 

Was Killua talking hours, days or years? Another jag of fear caught in Gon’s chest. For now, he preferred ignorance. He kept his fingers in his ears, fighting the desire to pull them out as the song seeped past them, ever more entrancing. He needed Killua’s arm around his shoulders to stay grounded. Focussing on Killua helped. If not for the weight of Killua’s arm and his bright hair, walking with him would have felt like walking with a shadow. His movements were fluid and soundless.

“Killua, can you walk out of time to the song?”

Killua altered his gait smoothly. “Does that help?”

“A little.”

Match Killua’s feet. Watch the flow of his movement. That was, subtly, as beautiful as the sirens’ song. Gon leaned into Killua’s side. 

𝕏

Gon’s mouth grew dry as he only pulled his fingers from his ears when obstacles forced him to grip them to climb, not to take a drink. His stomach gnawed with hunger. The giant trunks appeared through the fog as endlessly as the parade of high-born lords and ladies petitioning for his hand back home. He inhaled between waves of dizziness—and caught something new. “Killua, I smell blood.”

Killua sniffed. “I can smell bird shit.”

“I definitely smell blood, mixed with the mud and bird shit. Is it an illusion?”

“It’s not a scent they’d usually use to lure humans. Unless you’re attracted to blood?”

“No.” He frowned. “Do I seem like I would be?”

“I know so little about you, Freecss, I shouldn’t assume anything. As I’m your bodyguard, it’s important you’re honest with me about your weaknesses. I won’t judge.” 

“Well, I’m not attracted to blood.” Killua must meet some strange people as a fighter for hire, or else he’d lived among Unseelie fae. “But I have an acute sense of smell, like a wolf. Before you ask, I’m not a wolf. I don’t turn into one, ever.”

“Helpful to know. Mind you, being a lycanthrope or werewolf wouldn’t be a weakness right now.”

“Then I wouldn’t have needed to hire you.”

“Not true. Plenty of fae are strong enough to kill a lycan.” Killua smirked—somewhat inappropriately, given the danger he referred to was worse. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. Since you’re not attracted to blood, that scent is probably real.”

“Maybe if we follow it,” Gon said, “we’ll stop walking in circles.”

“That would be good.”

“That depends on what we find.”

“I don’t care, if that gets us out of here.”

The scent took them on a winding path through the fog and trees. 

“I smell it too,” Killua said after a time.

The fog thinned, drawing back across the forest floor into a wall of swirling cloud several trees distant. Condensation dripped from every exposed twig and leaf. Grey-and-white feathers speckled the undergrowth. Killua tightened his hold on Gon’s shoulders. “Don’t react, but there are nine sirens watching.”

The back of Gon’s neck prickled. “Can we handle that many?”

“I’d rather not find out. If we can, they’ll call their sisters.”

Gon set his jaw. He’d fight to his death, even if his limbs were leaden. Though something in the sirens’ song had changed—a heavy ache in his chest had overtaken his exhaustion.

He let his gaze drift up as they walked. Ten feet overhead, talons too large for a bird gripped a branch, yet the feet were birds’ feet, supporting a human-sized crouching grey-and-white feathered creature. At least, feathers covered the lower half of her body; above her hips, her alabaster skin matched her feathers. Long, tangled locks of human hair, dark as the forest shadows, dangled before the siren, hiding her eyes and her breasts. Gon glimpsed her mouth open in full song, but didn’t try to see more of her face.

A hole the width of a cannonball passed the entire way through the trunk of the next ancient tree at the same height as Gon’s head. Sweetly scented sap shone eerily around the hole, dripping down the bark like congealing tears. 

Further on, six holes drove deep into a trunk as broad as a bell tower. Trails of blood, feathers, and pieces of torn flesh led down past the enormous winding roots, between which three winged bodies sprawled in dark pools of their own blood. 

“We have to stop,” Gon said, “even if this is a trap.”

“I agree.” Killua squeezed his shoulders. “They wouldn’t make a trap from their own sisters. We need to know what happened. If you can stomach looking, I’ll guard you.”

The sirens’ song rose in a wail. Grief thickened Gon’s throat, and his vision blurred with tears he couldn’t stop. “This isn’t me. It’s their song.” 

A woman’s head lay face-up a couple of paces from the rest of her body. Gon wiped his eyes with his wrist as he crouched, and shifted the long locks of her hair to see her frozen expression: eyes staring at the sky, bloodless lips pulled back from her gaping mouth. Blood flecked her skin and the tiny grey-and-white feathers that lined her cheekbones and eyebrows. The crushed remains of her neck trailed torn tendons and smashed vertebrae.

“Whatever punched through the tree, punched through her first,” he said, stating the obvious. Killua’s hand remained on his shoulder—a precaution in case the fog rolled back in, yet Gon was grateful for that extra steadiness. He’d seen dead bodies before, human and otherwise; he’d witnessed and been part of bloody fights. Yet the sight nauseated his stomach: a display of callous violence beyond anything necessary to fight the sirens off.

He tried gently to tug her eyelids closed, but they were stiff, so instead he found a couple of flattish stones in the undergrowth which he laid over her eyes. It made her look more peaceful, even if he didn’t force her jaw shut.

“You know she can’t see anything now she’s dead,” Killua said.

“I know. But seeing her like this must be hard for her sisters.”

The rest of her body lay on its back over her spread-out, blood-soaked wings. Blood splattered the down and tiny feathers that grew over her upper arms, shoulders and collarbones. Her breasts and stomach were bare, and like her sister he’d seen in the tree, larger feathers covered her from her hips to below her knees, where her legs became scaled and fully birdlike. Scaly skin covered much of her forearms and three-fingered hands, finishing in long, bloodied talons, with which she had skewered a piece of fabric.

He grabbed a handful of creepers and draped them across her bare breasts to save her dignity and modesty. Then he carefully detached the fabric from her talons and rose to show Killua. “There’s two layers, like a cloak.” The thicker outer layer was black, the inner navy. “Ordinary wool. If her killer wore this, maybe they were human.”

Killua eyed the bodies and the holes in the tree. “The killer is very strong. Usually, I’d guess they weren’t human.”

“Usually?” Gon seized more creepers and covered the chest of the second siren, who had a hole torn through her stomach. He placed stones over her eyes too. The other lay on her front, partially covered by her wings, but was missing an arm and a sizeable chunk from her side. 

“Most fae who kill take pride in their technique,” Killua said, “whatever it is. I don’t like that this is so slipshod and bloody.” His brows furrowed. “It’s more… animalistic than most fae work… though there are exceptions. There’s no sign anything tried to eat the bodies. That makes their killer seem less like a were-creature, and more like a human.”

“But what weapon capable of this could anyone could drag this far into the forest, even if they’re immune to the sirens’ song? And if they’re immune, why did they need to kill them?” Gon’s hands curled into fists. 

“I don’t know. But if we run into them, they might be hard to handle.” Killua shrugged. “We’ll have to stay out of their way. We can’t prepare more than we have—except we should eat something, while the sirens aren’t attacking.” He pulled the package of honey cakes from his satchel, opened it and offered them to Gon.

“You go ahead. My appetite’s gone.” But Gon took a swig of water from the pouch at his belt. As soon as the liquid passed his lips, he felt as thirsty as if he’d drunk nothing for a day. He gulped down half the pouch. “We should go.” He frowned. It felt wrong to leave the sirens like this, despite covering their eyes and chests. “After we’ve finished covering their bodies.” 

“Gon, they’re sirens.” Killua’s voice came out muffled as he munched a honey cake. “Don’t waste too much sympathy. They probably attacked first, when their killer stopped to rest. They were going to murder whoever killed them.”

“But that’s their nature. Just because they’re not human doesn’t mean their family doesn’t feel distress. I can feel it in their song.” He scrubbed his eyes again. “We can take a few minutes to do this.”

“They could do it themselves.”

“If a human did this to their sisters, maybe a human needs to make amends.”

Killua paused, holding another honey cake. “There could be merit in that. Depends how sirens think.” He cast a glance upward. “All right, but quickly. We can’t tell when dark will fall.” 

Gon gathered debris from the forest floor while Killua stayed on guard eating. More sirens gathered along the boughs above, watching as they wailed. Fog swirled above them.

Killua kept close beside him. “Gon, don’t make this sort of thing a habit, okay? I warned you about heroic acts. This mightn’t exactly be heroic, but it’s what could get you killed.”

“I know.”

“You’re weird, you know?” Killua picked up a broken branch and laid it over one body. 

Gon continued to cover the rest of them. Without the song putting him to sleep, he finished in good time. Then he stood with Killua outside the roots, surveying the three mounds. Fog swirled past beyond the trunk. Gon asked, “Is there anything you know to say?”

“For sirens? There’s nothing we can say.”

Killua took Gon’s hand in a warm grip that felt like support. Like togetherness, even though Gon knew it was just a precaution in case the fog rolled back over them. Practicing the habit, for when they needed to pretend they were a couple. He still took comfort. 

The sirens’ song throbbed in the air. Women’s faces gazed down upon them, liquid eyes glittering from within wayward swathes of hair. Some of that glitter was tears—and some a dark hunger. One tipped her head back and cried out in a soaring note that sent a cascade of ice down Gon’s spine. 

Killua plunged forward, dragging him into a gap that appeared in the mist behind the tree. They ran, leaping roots and hollows in the ground Gon barely had time to see, until his lungs heaved for breath. But the singing faded behind them, and his eyes dried—finally. His muscles ached, but it was natural tiredness. Something snagged his cloak—brambles; the first he’d seen. The fog had thinned to mist. They were entering a new part of the forest.

More and more bramble bushes covered in dark green and purple leaves appeared. Gon kicked through low strands. The shadows of smaller, lower-canopied trees appeared among the giant trunks. “I smell apples.” 

“So do I,” Killua said. “Can you follow that scent?”

“Gods, yes.” His stomach growled.

The mist lifted completely, and the air grew sharply warmer, brightening with sunshine. They were in a wild orchard, surrounded by trees brimming with red fruit. Gon knew better than to pluck one, though he felt like he’d fasted for a week. A dirt path emerged from the leaf litter, blissfully free from thorny bramble stems. It let them downhill, past a gnarled trunk, over a shallow stone step. The deep toll of a bell vibrated through the air.

Killua squeezed Gon’s hand sharply, and they halted. Only occasional ancient trees now competed with those of the orchard. A quick sprint downhill, and a stone bridge with a tall gated entrance crossed the river that wound past the base of the hill like a shimmering girdle.

“Was that coincidence that the bell rang just then?” Gon asked. It was still fading on the breeze, yet there was no sign of the bell itself, nor of anything mechanical to ring it. 

“I’d say not.” Killua shaded his eyes with his free hand as he peered downslope. “It’s probably a warning in case something dangerous emerges from the forest. That gate will hold them back from crossing.”

“That—that means this is the edge.” Gon laughed shakily.

“Yes.” A smile dawned across Killua’s lips. “We’ve made it.”

“Yes!” Gon could have floated down the hill. He squeezed Killua’s hand. “Thanks to you.”

Killua’s smile grew brilliant and unguarded. “I think…your kindness inspired a siren to open our way out.” A grey-and-white feather quivered in his hair above his ear. 

“Hey.” Gon brushed it free. Killua’s hair was very soft, like his mouth looked. “That’s better.” 

Killua’s gaze followed its path down. “Are there more? I want to leave the sirens behind completely.” He ruffled his fingers through his hair, which fluffed it up.

“No more,” Gon assured him.

“You too.” A flash of black lacquered nails, and Killua flicked something free from Gon’s hair. His thumb brushed Gon’s temple, leaving a warm ghost of tingles. They were no longer holding hands, and Gon wanted to lean into Killua. He wanted to hug him, to—

Gon lifted his eyes. Whatever he’d seen in the fog earlier must have been a trick of the light, for Killua’s eyes were a startling summer blue. The kohl had caked in the creases at their corners and smudged around their rims. The moment hung for a breath. Then Killua’s dark eyelashes dropped, like when Gon had met his gaze with a challenge, back in the tavern. 

He was looking at Gon’s mouth. Gon opened and closed his fingers, filled with the urge to reach for him.

𝕏𝕏

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_Gon and Killua have arrived at the Wild Orchard. Will Gon give in to his impulse, or might something else happen?_   
  
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